


Season 8  Deleted Scenes

by bobcvit



Category: Game of Thrones (TV)
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-08-18
Updated: 2019-08-23
Packaged: 2020-09-06 10:36:25
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 2
Words: 5,976
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20290057
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/bobcvit/pseuds/bobcvit
Summary: These are a set of scenes that I feel belonged in season 8. Not a fix or a rewrite, just some stuff I wrote in my free time.Enjoy!This first one takes place directly following Jon learning the truth of his heritage





	1. Revelation

Jon stumbled his way out of the crypts in a haze. He ignored all of the “m’lords” as he weaved through the heavy traffic of people preparing the castle. Despite the darkness, the need to prepare was paramount. Numerous workers and soldiers went about their duties after regular hours attempting to display the Stark household in all its finery for its foreign guests. If any of them spoke to him beyond an official greeting it was unknown to him. Jon was in another mindset entirely, one that was not related to the impending assault of the dead. 

As he moved he could hear Sam’s voice in the back of his head.

-“Lyanna Stark.”-

Jon quickened his pace. Moving past a column of men loading barrels of oil to the eastern gate. He found a staircase aside the wall.

-“Rhaegar Targaryen.”-

He quickly found a secluded section amongst the battlements. He slowed his stride when he was finally alone. Realizing how out of breathe he was, Jon stopped himself in the middle of passway balcony that overviewed Wintertown.

“Aegon Targarayen, sixth of his name,protector of the realm, all of it.” Jon exhaled deeply.

“Madness,” Jon stated aloud.

“It has to be”, his mind answered back.

How could he be the true heir to the Iron Throne after all this time? The Lannisters, Baratheons, Targaryens and among them all he had the best claim. How could this be? His only title his entire life had been the Bastard of Winterfell.  
It was inconceivable but at the same time so obvious Jon felt like he should have known. The timeline made sense and more importantly, why else wouldn’t Father….Ned Stark….Father…

‘Father.’ Jon confirmed internally.

Why else would Father never tell him about his mother? He remembered the pained look upon his face the last time they saw each other. When he begged for any information about his true heritage. Only one part of his Father’s response wasn’t uncomfortable for Jon to hear again in his head.

“You are a Stark, you may not have my name, but you have my blood.”

“Aye, I am a Stark.” This time Jon voiced himself externally despite himself still being alone. Sansa and Arya’s acceptance before the fact was what truly mattered to him; however, it felt good to finally think of himself as ‘wanted‘. That he was a legitimate Stark meant something to the world, but the void of his mother was what kept Jon from sleeping when he was a child.

However, he was not truly a Stark, nor a Snow, Jon was a Targaryen. He knew it in his heart to be true and it pained him somehow. Irony was its own god with a sick sense of humor it seemed.

Jon felt a familiar presence near him. His turn to his side filled him a feeling of happiness. Slowly, Ghost emerged like his namesake from the passage. He didn’t have to guess how the direwolf found him up here in solitude. Their awareness of the other was constant while they were this close in proximity and Ghost could feel his emotions just as easily as Jon could feel his. Jon knelt to the snow-covered floor and stroked his lifelong companion. He attended to the area behind his ear, his favorite spot. The Direwolf responded happily and immediately pushed forward for more attention. With a small laugh, Jon stopped him from bowling him over into the snow. Ghost was just too large these days, but he was still the same pup he brought to the wall all those years ago.

Somehow Ghost always knew how to comfort him, “I’m still the same person,” Jon smiled as he looked into Ghost’s red eyes. “I always will be, boy.” The moment held a brevity from recent tension of his mind.

In the distance Jon heard the bellow of a Dragon, Drogon to be exact, followed by a higher screech, Rhaegal. No doubt the two dragons were returning from a nighttime flight and were letting their mother know of their presence. Jon stood up from Ghost to once again look over the skyline over Wintertown. He could not see either of the two dragons through the darkness, and yet…

Jon closed his eyes and turned his awareness inwards and revealed, the presence of the dragons. Primarily he felt Rhaegal, he remembered the feeling of riding the green dragon and the excitement it brought. Only now did he fully realize that this excitement was mutual for the winged beast. Daenerys had talked of her bond with all of her children but at the same time mentioned her connection to Drogon was the deepest. Jon concentrated on Rhaegal, it felt similar to his bond with Ghost but at the same time different. It felt warmer, it reminded him of Dany.

‘Dany’

“Seven Hells.” He moaned aloud. Jon had completely forgotten, he was supposed to see Dany tonight. Judging by the barely visible moon in the sky, he was late as well. “Come on Ghost” he said in a more upbeat tone. The two left the battlement and they proceeded to his quarters. His pace was indeed more relaxed and he began to think more rationally. This time he was able to acknowledge the “m’lords” as he walked down the stairs and into the courtyard. He still made sure to carefully choose his path so he avoided anyone who would offer conversation.

As he opened the door into his chambers he began to remove his cloak, armor, and weapons. Ghost followed him into the room and went about his business to get warm by the fire. Jon laid out an outfit more suited for casual events. He went to his own lavatory, in order to clean himself, as was his custom before seeing Dany.

While on the boat sailing to White Harbor, Dany and Jon had been almost inseparable. However, once they arrived in the North they had both agreed to keep some distance so as to not attract suspicion onto their alliance. Although, nighttime visits to her chambers, shared looks during war meetings, and private dragon riding lessons did not seem like ‘distance’ to most. Jon was not immune to the rumors about himself and the Dragon Queen in Winterfell, Sansa knew, Tyrion and Varys of course knew, hell Ser Davos knew before Jon even did.

Jon washed his face in a wash bucket and wiped himself off with a moist towel in order to remove the dirt and grime he carried. As the water in the bin began to settle, Jon looked in it to see his reflection. Slowly, he examined his facial features as if it was the first time seeing them. Dark grey eyes and equally dark brown hair, distinctly Stark. Jon sighed to himself, he didn’t see the Targaryen side at all. Then again, asides from the violet eyes and silver hair, Jon honestly didn’t know what a Targaryen looked like. People had sometimes said Jon looked like a more handsome version of his Father Eddard Stark. Perhaps that was the Targaryen side of his heritage?  
He had only known two people who had the ‘blood of the dragon’. Maester Aemon had been frail and shriveled, so he wasn’t a good example. The only other Targaryen Jon had met was…

‘Dany’

His brow furrowed in realization, Jon finished with his hygiene, but more slowly now. He returned to his chamber, deep in thought as the causality of the situation played in his mind. If he was the son of Rhaegar Targaryen, the elder brother to Daenerys, then Jon was her nephew by blood. This fact had not been lost by Jon since his talk with Sam, but he had not fully realized the implication into his relationship with Daenerys.

Outwardly, it did not appear to affect him. Yet, internally it was another story. As if he didn’t know the process, Jon struggled to put his clothes on. Ghost remained silent near the fire.

When he was dressed, Jon sat silently on his bed and thought of Dany. Memories of Dragonstone and the boat swept through his mind. Her silver hair braided into intricate patterns, her deep violet eyes that were hard to look directly into, the confidence in her voice that commanded respect from all those around her. The sincerity that led one to trust her completely, the warmth of a smile that made others feel safe. The touch of her hands sliding tenderly over the scars of his chest. The almost inaudible moans she would make when he kissed her with love. Endless amounts of detail and pure emotions combined together to describe Daenerys in Jon’s mind.

Jon swallowed with difficulty and realized his feelings. “I still love her,” and immediately he felt shame for it. Not only had he been bedding his Aunt by blood, but even after the fact of knowing it, he could not shake the very real feelings he had for Daenerys.

Perhaps it was because they did not have an actual familial bond. In truth, the closest thing Jon ever had to an Aunt was Lady Catelyn, and that was never a healthy relationship so he dismissed it. However, what bothered him most, was that Jon felt as if he would have still have had these affections for Daenerys, despite the knowledge of their relations. Even if things were reversed and Jon had grown up as Aegon Targaryen, heir to the Iron Throne, and she as his Aunt, Jon would have nonetheless loved her. It filled him with self-loathing for himself and fear of the judgement of others should the truth be revealed.

He immediately thought about Sam, the tortured look on his face when he told him Daenerys had executed his father and brother. How could he love the person who had caused is most trusted friend so much pain?

“What would Sansa and Arya think? What of the other Northern lords?”

Most of the lords of the North still regarded Daenerys as the Mad King’s daughter. Someone whose mind was tainted as the product of incestuous relations spanning generations. In truth it filled Jon with anger that they treated Daenerys so coldly after she had promised to help defend the North.

What if the Northern lords abandoned him if they knew he was a Targaryen as well? The thought made him shudder, with the dead approaching swiftly from the Wall this was no time for disunity. Jon had to keep this a secret from the lords for the time being, that much was certain.

Arya would love and accept him all the same. Jon took comfort from knowing that without question.

On the other side, Sansa had spent the last few years of her life tortured by a woman infamous for her incest and her own bastard son Joffrey. Jon had also seen that Sansa’s treatment of Daenerys had been minimal at best, almost completely formal so as to not outright offend her. She also voiced her displeasure and disappointment when he could not deny his relationship with the Dragon Queen to her. No, Sansa would not at all be happy with this revelation, maybe she would even begin to plot against…

‘Daenerys is our Queen and that is the end of it.’ He pushed any thought of foul play from Sansa out of his mind.

There was knock at Jon’s door that broke his train of thought. Slowly Jon got up and opened the door. He was honestly terrified it might be Daenerys looking for him, but instead it was merely of the nightly guards.

The guard was a young lad but sturdy looking in is armor. “M’lord, sorry to interrupt, the Kingslayer has arrived in Winterfell. We have him in the custody of our guard”

“That’s good to hear, what are the news of the Lannister forces?” The guard looked uncomfortable at this inquiry. After a second he responded,

“The Kingslayer has informed us that there are no other Lannister forces coming Your Grace.” There was a brief pause has the guard struggled to finish, “he said Queen Cersei has betrayed the living fighting in the North.”

Jon could feel himself losing his vertigo from nausea. Now they had even less hope of defeating the dead. This was too much for him to handle with everything else going on. However, he had to keep the mask on, Jon furtively used the door way to balance his body.

“Keep the Kingslayer in custody and make sure he is properly fed,” Jon said with as much composure as he could manage. “Queen Daenerys and I will deal with him in the morning.”

“Yes m’lord,” the guard bowed and Jon shut the door. Jon went back to sit on his bed, now in a somber mood. Slowly he coursed his hands through is thick hair and inhaled, his exhale was more of a sob. He couldn’t control his emotions and Jon Snow began to cry to himself within his own chambers.

Ghost noticed his distress and pounced up onto the mattress with a sad whimper. The direwolf, big as he was on the bed, forced his snout and eventually his head into Jon’s lap. Jon couldn’t help but laugh through his tears, he returned Ghost’s love with a tight hug.

“I’m glad you’re here Ghost.” Jon whispered into his fur. When they parted Jon patted him once more on the head and looked into his eyes. The deep red orbs bore into his own grey ones, and a sense of calm returned to the room. Jon collected himself and contemplated once more.

He wouldn’t hide any of this information from Dany. Not only would Jon never dishonor her from a romantic perspective, the very real truth was that he couldn’t keep it from her. Jon was used to hiding his emotions with his brooding silence, but Daenerys could see through him more than anyone else, anyone else alive that is.  
How would she even react?

Would Daenerys see him as a threat? The thought of the Tarly’s and their fate reentering Jon’s mind made him anxious.

‘No.’ Jon pushed that out of his head as well. She was his Queen and he trusted her. Daenerys would trust him, at least he hoped she would. The final dilemma remained, how he would tell her.

The complexity and awkwardness of the conversation gnawed at him. Jon didn’t trust his current mental state with telling Daenerys the truth, he needed to rest on it. However, he still had to see his lover tonight, as her lover. Jon also was not mentally ready to even consider that step yet, he required another solution. As he thought, Jon pet Ghost again, much to the animals delight.

Seeing Ghost’s reaction made Jon smile softly again, and suddenly, he had an idea.

Xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx  
Daenerys Targaryen sat at a table in her chambers, musing over a half empty cup of wine. The room was filled with the sounds of the fireplace, the wind from outside, and the occasional sigh from the Dragon Queen.

‘Where is he?’

Daenerys had lost count of how many times she had wondered that in the last few hours. Jon was never late, at least not for these kinds of things. She wanted to go looking for him, but that as not in line with their mutual agreement to at least appear regal. Not that the half-hearted attempt had been successful. Daenerys could feel the tension between herself and the other Northern lords, and her closeness to the ‘White Wolf’ was undoubtedly apart of it. This tension appeared to be rooted in Jon’s sister Sansa and Daenerys made it a point to have that talk with her.

However, right now all she could think about was Jon.

When she first met the King in the North, Daenerys was honestly disappointed by what she saw. She had expected a burly, grizzled man; one who was loudmouthed, and with an ego matched only by his thirst for battle. Instead she was treated with a smaller than average man with a seemingly stoic tendency for honor. A man who was no older than herself which further surprised the young Daenerys. His brooding nature worked to conceal any outward appearance of emotion, but his eyes betrayed a thick sense of feeling behind his mask.

Their first conversation had been…tense, he refused to bow, refused to call her queen, and even compared her to a child. When Daenerys tried to intimidate him, he met her fire with his own outburst of flame, going so far as to challenge her claim to the Iron Throne. Jon infuriated Daenerys, but intrigued her all the same; a certain something about him appeared as foreign to her, but at the same time so familiar. Daenerys noticed the same qualities in Jon that Ser Barristan had used to describe her brother Rhaegar. A love, not for his talent in battle, but a devotion to his people. It also didn’t help that he was exceedingly handsome despite his quiet demeanor.

Eventually they worked out a healthy working relationship thanks to the help of Tyrion. Over the next several months the barriers between respect, trust, and mutual feelings for one another blurred. That was until the night Jon appeared at her door en route to White Harbor. The night everything had changed for them both. The way Jon looked into her eyes that night told Daenerys told her that what was between them was not just a possible dalliance. It was something much more, now she felt it when he was near, and Daenerys knew Jon could feel it as well.

Since then their relationship had morphed into what they had now; nighttime visits to her chambers, shared looks during war meetings, and private dragon riding lessons. The last of those activities should have come as a shock to her; however, something had told Daenerys in that moment that Jon could ride Rhaegal, and the fact that he did ride Rhaegal made Jon ever that more irresistible to the Dragon Queen.

It frustrated Daenerys that they could not be public with their affections, but she was a queen, the Queen, and she had to play the role, and Jon his.

Daenerys’s heard a scuffle outside of her chambers which was followed by several shouts in low Valyrian. Her personnel guard must have encountered someone unwelcome. Daenerys remained in her seat, cautiously watching the door in case the there was a real threat. Several shouts could be heard but no sounds of struggle. There was a tense silence until there was a knock at her door.

“What is it?” Daenerys asked, she remained seated and inquired more out of curiosity at this point. Whatever the disturbance was it hadn’t caused her unsullied to attack, so it wasn’t something that could threaten her directly.

“A wolf, my Queen,” the Unsullied answered through the door. “A large wolf,” there was a short pause from beyond the door, “it won’t leave.”

“Is it white?” Daenerys asked in a casual tone, still not leaving her seat.

“Ye..Yes, my Queen.” The unsullied answered fully once he obviously did a double take from behind the door. Even Daenerys surprised herself at how nonchalantly she had responded to the situation. She got up from her seat and approached the door, opening it the unsullied guard gestured down the hall. At the end of the passageway, two other unsullied guards held their spears and shields at the ready. The tips of their weapons pointed to the ground where there lay a quiet white direwolf. Although the guards remained tense in their position. The wolf simply kept silent and faced the end of the hallway, towards Daenerys

She knew him instantly as Ghost, Jon’s faithful companion that he also shared certain warging abilities with. Jon had talked about the animal over their initial courtship, Daenerys remembered that it gave her happiness to know such a tortured man had a special connection to something physical. It reminded the Mother of Dragons of the bond she shared with her children.

Surprising herself again within her own initiative, Daenerys began to slowly walk to the direwolf. When the guard at her door began to move forward in protest, his Queen gestured with her hand to not interfere. Although, she moved with trepid confidence, Daenerys could not deny how intimidating Ghost was, despite simply laying in peace on the floor. Do doubt the unsullied had never seen a wolf that large before, and neither had she to be honest.

‘And Jon said he was the runt of the litter.’ The Queen let out a small chuckle amidst the tension.

As Daenerys passed by the two guards nearest Ghost, she knelt to his level, and offered her hand. The animal raised his snout to the Dragon Queen and began to quickly sniff her. Within seconds, Ghost was licking her outstretched arm, it made Daenerys smile. Cautiously, with the guards still watching, Ghost walked into her space. She did not retreat, or show fear, now the large beast was directly eye to eye with Daenerys Targaryen. For a few seconds, they held the stare, violet and red, until she felt it.

“Jon.” Daenerys said aloud, and the unsullied shifted their view to her in surprise. As if the wolf could understand what she said, Ghost walked into her, Daenerys instinctively wrapped her arms around him and closed her eyes. They held the embrace while the unsullied watched in bewilderment. Ghost’s fur was soft, and his slow breath put Daenerys into a calming state. The feeling reminded her of the desperate way Jon would hold her in their private moments alone. As if this was the last time they would ever see one another, with the army of the dead fast approaching, those feelings were becoming common.

Within their embrace, Ghost let out a small whimper, and Daenerys could sense sadness from within him. She repositioned themselves so they were looking eye to eye again, this time Ghost could not hold the stare and lowered his head to the grounds. A smaller, less audible whimper came from him now, confusing Daenerys more.

The direwolf began to move forward, eventually past Daenerys, while still making sure to brush the side of her body. The unsullied looked anxious with their spears but they did not impede his path of movement. Once a few feet from the still crouched Daenerys, Ghost looked back into her eyes once more and moved on ahead, to her chambers. The unsullied by the Queen’s door was about to stop the wolf from entering but she told him to let Ghost pass.

Daenerys raised herself to her feet and followed Ghost, upon reaching the entrance, she could see him, already at the foot of her bed. The Queen could only laugh to herself at the Wolf making herself comfortable in the furs, as if he were Jon. She turned to the guard and let him know she would be safe, closed the door and approached the bed. Ghost’s eyes watched her intently as she closed the distance.

“He’s not coming tonight is he?” Daenerys asked the wolf with a hint of melancholy in her voice. Ghost remained silent as she sat upon the bed next to him. Daenerys could feel anguish within the wolf, and she knew further that it was not his own. Slowly, she embraced him again, this time in a show comfort to the animal.

She pressed all of her thoughts and feelings for Jon into Ghost, hoping that some of it would reach him. Wherever he was.

Something was troubling the ‘White Wolf’ tonight and this was his show of affection regardless. Daenerys felt touched that he had not forgotten about her, but worried now for the man she,

‘loves,’ Daenerys confirmed to herself as she gripped Ghost tighter.

What could disturb Jon so much that he could not be able to talk to her about it?

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	2. The Truth

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Another deleted scene I think we all needed to be shown. This takes place once Jon tells Bran to tell Sansa and Arya about the truth of his heritage

“Tell them,” Jon said to Bran. He would be much better at telling Sansa and Arya his true parentage.

Bran looked up at the two Starks, “Jon is not our Father’s son, he is the son of our Aunt Lyanna Stark and Rhaegar Targaryen. The two were married in secret by the High Septon himself. Jon is the true heir to the Iron Throne.”

The words came as apathetic as they always did these days, but the effects of them hit the two Stark women with a wave of emotion. Both Sansa and Arya continued to stare at Bran for several seconds before they slowly turned their faces to Jon. He felt a shock through his body as he struggled to look them both in the eye so they knew it was true.

There was a moment of silence and a mix of stares between the four of them. They were the last of the Stark bloodline, but now there was a dragon amongst the wolves.

Finally, Sansa broke the stillness. “How..is this possible?”

Jon took a moment to consider his words before answering.

“After the sack of Kings Landing, Father rode to the tower of Joy in Dorne to save Lyanna. When he arrived she was dying from childbirth. So, he raised me as his bastard to protect me from Robert.” He was still calling Ned Stark his father. That part of his life would never change. Another silence ensued, this time broken Arya.

“It makes sense,” she said as she looked from Jon to Sansa. “That was never Father’s way.” Eventually she settled her gaze to Jon, “I think a small part of me always knew.”

‘Of course she knew’, he thought to himself with a chuckle. It made him feel relief that at least Arya accepted his parentage, when he himself was still struggling accept his heritage.

Sansa stared into the trees a few seconds, as she thought about this new found knowledge. This was a lot for all of them to take in and she needed her own time for her to contemplate it. All she could think about was how she used to call him her ‘bastard brother’ and how her mother always hated him so. How he was never allowed to sit with them at social events and feasts, yet in actuality he had been the true the heir to the Iron Throne this whole time….

“So what are you going to do?” Sansa asked Jon. It was the obvious question but it made him frown all the same. Sansa felt poor for asking and his response made her feel even worse.

“Nothing.” He stated it firmly so that they both knew he was serious.

“Nothing….” Sansa repeated in an unsurprised and blasé tone. She was giving him the look she always gave him when she thought, no, when she knew he was making a naive mistake. “You’re going to do nothing.”

“Nothing.” Jon said again. He was clearly deflecting the subject as if he as used to this tone from Sansa.

“What do you mean you’re going to do nothing,” Arya interjected, impatient for their banter. “You’re the heir, you have to tell people, you have to go to King’s Landing and-“

“And do what?! “ He rose his voice as his emotions got the better of him. Emotions he had been carrying for weeks amid the aftermath of the Long Night. Everything from the revelation of his heritage, his mixed feelings about Daenerys, to the impending war with Cersei accumulated into one outburst of emotion. Jon’s usual calm demeanor gave way and his frustration made him careless with his words. “You want me to go down to King’s Landing, declare myself King and start another war, to fight the woman I lo-“

Jon stopped himself as he saw both the Stark women’s eyes go wide amidst a second realization. He couldn’t bear to look at either of them anymore and lowered his head in a mix of embarrassment and shame. Only Bran was immune to the sudden awkwardness. Sansa and Arya looked at one another as they silently confirmed what they were thinking. Eventually they returned to look at Jon who was still staring at the ground.

Sansa finally caught her breath, and prepared herself for a question she may not want to know the answer to. “Did you know before?”

“No of course not!” Jon quickly raised his head to meet her presumed assumption. “It just happened that way…”

“Does she know?” Arya asked next, her demeanor was calmer but at the same time it was suspicious in tone. Jon could not deny this to them and so he simply nodded. “And?” She was becoming impatient again, obviously he didn’t want to talk about it but Arya’s intention was beyond simple social taboo.

“Daenerys wants you to keep it a secret,” Bran spoke which came as a surprise to the others. All of them were looking at him but Jon’s expressions gave way to worry. Had he seen the conversation he had with Daenerys the night of the feast? His powers as they were described were still vague to Jon so he couldn’t be certain. Bran sensed this and continued.

“I don’t need to see into the past to know she loves you, and that she is terrified of your claim.” Terrified was putting it mildly for Jon, he remembered how desperate Dany had been when they talked about his claim. The memory of her almost ultimatum made him feel uncomfortable as he awaited the Stark women’s response to this third revelation in the Godswood.

Eventually Arya and Sansa looked back to Jon and their expressions were as cold as he expected. Arya’s expression was of more annoyance than anything. She hardly knew this “Dragon Queen”, and already she was trying to divide their family. However, Sansa stared into Jon with a frigid intent so fierce that he was reminded of the Night King himself. Since Queen Daenerys had arrived at Winterfell she constantly talked of her “Right” to the throne and the destiny she had seemingly constructed for herself. Now that her destiny was forfeit she was using Jon’s love to her advantage against him, even when she claimed to love him in return. Sansa never trusted Daenerys there was no denying that, but now she disliked her as a person. Daenerys was nothing but another Cersei, willing to say or do anything to get what she wanted.

Finally she spoke, “so you’re going to go to Kings Landing and fight her battle so she can sit the throne?’”

“Sansa I pledged myself to her before I knew…” His first excuse was honor.

“Jon.” Sansa interrupted him, she was now speaking calmly but assertively. She needed to make sure he understood what Daenerys was doing and that all of his options were known. “It doesn’t even belong to her, the throne is yours by right-“

“Aye it is my right!” Jon lost his temper again. He had never acknowledged his right to the throne outwardly or even internally up to this point. Yes, he knew he was the heir to the throne but it never occurred to him as something that belonged to him by some gods given ‘right’. In fact he had never spoken about anything as a birthright in his life before, now it was about the bloody Iron Throne itself. He looked away from them and said quietly as his second excuse, “I don’t want it.”

“You didn’t want to be King in the North either but you took it because it was the right thing to do.” Sansa responded deflating him farther.

“That’s because the North is my home, I don’t know anything about the South or its people.” This was now his third excuse but even Arya knew this was a poor one.

“Jon.” Arya spoke but Jon already knew her point. He met Sansa’s eyes first.

“I told you before, all I wanted to do was to protect the North and I have done that.” Now he looks around at them with sadness, each one of them with their own story of struggle and trauma over the last several years. He had often thought about them while apart, if they were safe or even alive. He thought about his Father being beheaded in dishonor, Robb betrayed by his own bannermen, the scared look on Rickon’s face before Ramsay shot him down. As his gaze settled on Arya he found the real reason for his fear. “We are all together and safe, the last of the Starks. Now with ‘this’.” He struggled with the words, “we could lose everything and I don’t want us to go through it all again.”

This time Sansa and Arya didn’t have an immediate response for him. They all took a moment to reflect upon the Game of Thrones and how all of their lives have been affected by it. Sansa’s mind still lingered on Daenerys and her influence over Jon. Since he had returned Winterfell it was immediately obvious he was besot by the Dragon Queen. The two of them were inseparable at times and lately he had begun taking her side in many of the disagreements between herself and Sansa. Today’s council was just another example of Jon positioning himself within Daenerys’s camp. In truth, Sansa was trying to find his reason for telling her and Arya the truth in defiance of Daenerys’s wishes. Perhaps it was their familial bond or his honor that compelled him to do so. That is when she began to play the game Littlefinger had taught her, about guessing someone’s motivations. Sansa could see the conflict and inner turmoil within Jon, she also saw the doubt. However, whether it was truly doubt in himself was the question. Eventually, she got the courage to ask him what he wouldn’t himself.

“Then why did you even tell us?” Her words came off as apathetic as Bran’s. Before Jon could answer she began to walk away, leaving the other three in the Godswood.

“Sansa,” Jon’s voice sounded hurt and he began to walk after her.

“Let her go.” Arya stopped him, ‘she needs some time alone with it.” Slowly Arya moved to Jon and put her hand on his arm. She could feel his muscles relax from her touch. Jon looked into her eyes, almost as if he were looking for guidance from his little sister.

“Look, Bran was right. This is your choice; so if you don’t want the throne and you really love her that much, then do what she wants.” Arya made sure to put emphasis in her words so Jon knew her stance on Daenerys. There was a pause between the two before she spoke again, “but I think you know deep down that isn’t the right thing to do. Because that’s not what Father would have done.” Jon was forced to look down at this and Arya gave him hug in return. He needed her comfort and so he returned the embrace, eventually they separated and Arya began to leave as well.

Once she was a distance away she stopped and turned back to Jon with a small smile. “You always will be my brother.” Jon smiled in return and the two shared a warm moment before Arya left.

Jon was left with Bran in the Godswood but he might as well have been alone. He stood in silence amidst his thoughts. This time he looked up into the air instead of the ground. A tender silence followed as he searched the snow for answers. He could feel Bran’s stare but he couldn’t meet it initially. He knew Bran would say something he would have no answer to. Finally he acknowledged his presence.

Bran just looked into his soul and said, “love is the death of duty.”

‘Seven Hells.’


End file.
